


Another Year

by cryptid98



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Humor, Birthday, Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, Coping, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Nostalgia, Reminiscing, Trauma, Travel, this is going to be a mix of lighthearted and depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptid98/pseuds/cryptid98
Summary: A series of stories set in an AU where the Elric brothers go through their adolescent years without getting any closer to the truth. Multiple chapters planned.2/27/21: Don't think I will continue this specific series. Maybe some other FMAB fics are in the cards for the future, though.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Another Year

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea for a canon divergence AU where the Elric brother's are well into their twenties before they're able to get their bodies back. i really wanted to explore the passing of time and how it affects the two of them, but also exploring the bond the two brothers share.
> 
> i have multiple chapters planned that detail various stories on each of the Elric's birthdays. some will be lighthearted, some will be depressing, some will be a mix of both. i will update the tags with each story i post. i am still trying to figure out how i want this to fit with the original timeline of events, so forgive me if the setting in the first chapter is a bit iffy. all chapters will take place after the canonical death of maes hughes. it should go without saying that there are spoilers for FMAB within.
> 
> rated T for mentions of depression, mentions of character death, and other possibly triggering subject matter.
> 
> i love comments (and critique!), so please leave a comment if you enjoyed or have some critique for my writing.

It's Edward's seventeenth birthday today. He would have forgotten had his brother not reminded him. "We should at least do something special, even if we're not in Resembool," Alphonse remarks. He's already naming off a million ideas of things they could do. The sound of Alphonse's footsteps ring heavy in Edward's ears, hollow and metallic. 

Another year. It's been another year that he hasn't gotten their bodies back. The last thing he wants to do is celebrate.

But Edward smiles at his brother, shoves the dread he feels to the back of his mind. He's gotten pretty good at it over the years. At least with distractions, he's able to function without feeling like he's drowning. He can't bear to bring Alphonse down to the depths with him. Not anymore than he already has.

"Alright, alright. We can do something fun. I could honestly just go for a hot meal..." Edward groans, rubbing his stomach. The thought hits him that he's being insensitive, but Alphonse is laughing at him. "You would want something simple like that, wouldn't you? You could always treat yourself to something more than that, you know. It's not every day that it's your birthday. "

Edward pauses to think about what he would even want. When him and Al were kids, they would get toys or, as they learned to read, books on alchemy. (A short-lived thrill- the brothers would speed through each book within a night.) It's not like they could carry much with them when they traveled, either. The things that Edward truly wanted couldn't be bought with money.

"How about dessert then? If I'm feeling really fancy, maybe I'll get some automail polish. You and I both are looking a little worse for wear." Edward rolls the sleeves on his automail arm up and puts it up against Alphonse’s body. They’re both dull and covered in scratches that catch in the sunlight.

“Can’t have people thinking the famous Elric brothers are a bunch of beat-up nobodies, right?” Edward starts flexing his arm, grinning up at Alphonse. Alphonse reflects the gesture and part of him feels like a kid again. Joking around with his brother. “Yeah! We should be so shiny that people are blinded when they see us,” the younger brother boasts. 

And so, they find a restaurant to eat at. It’s a run-down pub, sure, but the smells coming from inside are too good to pass up. Edward eats his fill of all the greasy food he can get his hands on. (No way he was ever going to get a meal like this back in Central.) 

There’s a sizeable crowd of people here, boisterous and red-faced from their drinks. The two brothers, however, are lost in their own little world. They talk about fond memories of past birthdays, of the cake their mother used to bake for them every year. Alphonse can still remember the taste of it, and only wishes there was still a recipe left behind for him to follow. Edward grows quiet for a moment, realizing that even if she had written the recipe down, it was now a pile of ash. 

“I’m sorry, Al.” Edward’s voice is just above a whisper, his head hanging low. The rest of his meal doesn’t look appetizing anymore. Alphonse is startled by his sudden change of tone. “Hold on a minute, what are you sorry for? I wouldn’t want to eat all that greasy stuff anyways-“ he begins, before Edward cuts him off. “The cake recipe. It probably burned down with the rest of the house.” 

Alphonse makes a hurt noise at the strain in Edward’s voice. “It’s… it’s just a cake, brother. We should at least be glad that we can remember what it tastes like. That’s enough, right?” Edward doesn’t reply, picking at his food mindlessly with a fork. The weight he feels on his chest threatens to suffocate him. How foolish to think that he could escape his own personal hell for one day.

Alphonse breaks the silence. “You know, there were a few things that mom cooked that I couldn’t stand eating. Remember those nights we would say we weren’t very hungry then run over to Granny’s house to eat what she had cooked? Maybe Granny has some of her recipes that we could ask her for.”

Edward scrunches his nose up at that, glancing up from his plate. “Yeah, but Granny couldn’t bake worth a damn. Thought I was going to be sick every time she’d give us a burnt slice of whatever she made up. I don’t know where Winry got her baking skills from, but it sure as hell wasn’t Granny.” Alphonse chuckles and nods his head, happy that he’s at least got Edward talking again. “You remember those muffins she made…”

They’re back to reminiscing again. The noise of the pub crowd is drowned out once more. Alphonse makes a joke about getting some non-burnt cake for dessert, but Edward pats his belly in satisfaction. “Couldn’t eat another bite if I tried. Besides, thinking about Granny’s baking ruined my appetite for any sweets.” Edward pays his hefty bill for the food and the brothers leave to scope the town for some automail polish.

Being a military dog had its perks – at least Edward could afford a big meal and enough automail polish to shine an entire suit of armor. “Hey Al, they’ve got paint here too. How about we paint some flames on you?” Edward’s grin is devilish, holding up a red can of automail paint. “You know you don’t have an artistic bone in your body, brother. I’d end up looking like I rolled around in red mud,” Alphonse crosses his arms and Edward can just see the face of his younger brother pouting in his head. 

“Suit yourself. But if we could find a talented painter…” Alphonse leans down to grab the paint from Edward, but not before Edward jerks it out of his grasp. They’re practically wrestling in the tiny stall now. The shop owner might be staring at them, but they’re laughing so hard that they can’t find it within themselves to care.

The brothers make it back to their room for the night, minus one red can of paint. They squeeze into the tiny bathroom and Edward gets to work with a rag and the polish. He starts on Alphonse first, scooping out a generous amount of the compound and spreading it on the metal of his chest. Alphonse watches with curiosity for a moment before he speaks up. “I think you’ve gotten taller again, Ed. I’m not having to crane my neck down as far as I usually do to look at you.” 

Alphonse genuinely means what he’s saying, but it doesn’t stop the elder brother from glaring at him in annoyance. “Keep saying stuff like that and I’ll make you polish your back yourself,” Edward grumbles through gritted teeth, his grip on the rag tightening. “I was being serious! C’mon, you know I can’t reach that far back without my arms popping off,” Alphonse cries, holding his arms out. “Quit fidgeting or I’ll pop them off for you!” Alphonse huffs in response, but Edward can’t stop a small chuckle from escaping him.

“We’re really still just kids, aren’t we?” Edward’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he works, but he keeps going. “Playing around. Fighting like little kids. That’s the way it should always be. Yet…” he trails off, his hands ceasing. “I feel like there’s still so much wrong. So much that you’re missing out on. How ridiculous is this, Al? Here I am, polishing your body like it’s a car. You deserve better than this-“ Edward’s voice catches in his throat and he feels tears gather in his eyes.

Alphonse shakily reaches a hand up and rests it on Edward’s shoulder. “Ed, that doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you’re here doing this, and that we can still joke around like little kids. I’ll have plenty of time to catch up on what I missed when we get our bodies back.” Alphonse can feel his own voice faltering, almost like he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. But he has to. He has to do it for his brother. 

“ _It’s not enough,_ ” Edward sobs, dropping the rag and slumping down to the floor. “I can never make up for what I did to you, Al. We’re never going to get this time back. We’ll look back years from now and think of what a waste it was. If we ever even get our bodies back-“ 

Alphonse grips Edward’s shoulder roughly and forces him to stand. “You need to quit saying stuff like that! We _both_ made that decision, brother. I know that we can get our bodies back, even if it doesn’t seem like it’s within our reach now. And I’ll never feel like I’ve wasted a day of my life as long as you’re by my side.” 

Edward hides his face, burying it in the sleeves of his shirt. The tears are flowing freely now and Edward feels like the floor is going to crumble underneath him. Alphonse wraps his arms around Edward, squeezing him tightly. “You’re wasting your time thinking like this, brother. I know it’s hard not to think about those things. I have to stop myself from thinking like that, too. You’re not alone. We have each other,” Alphonse whispers. 

He reaches to stroke Edward’s hair, as well as he can with large hands. Like he used to do when they were kids. When Edward was so grief-stricken by their mother’s death, the only way Alphonse could get him to sleep was by holding him like this. 

Edward stays like that in Alphonse’s embrace until his breathing steadies and he can bring himself to hug his brother back. The metal of Alphonse’s chest is cool against his face. “Thank you, Al,” Edward strains. He sniffles and pulls away, looking up to Al blearily. “I got carried away, didn’t I? I’ve still got a lot of work to do until you’re so sparkling that it’d make the stars jealous.”

“Don’t go and do a shoddy job, now. If you miss a spot I’ll make sure to tell Winry you need another hour-long lecture on the proper way to take care of your automail,” Alphonse threatens, holding the rag out to Edward. “Geeze, I get it. I should probably call her tonight; I’m sure she’ll give me an earful anyways if I forget to call her on my birthday,” Edward groans, snatching the rag from Alphonse and getting back to work.

His arms ache from all the polishing, but he whistles at Alphonse when he’s satisfied with what he’s done. “You’re seriously making my eyes hurt, Al. I don’t think they’ll let you back into Central at this rate. You might actually blind someone.” 

Alphonse is over the moon when he looks at himself, twisting and turning to look at how shiny it all is. “You know what I think it’s missing, though?” the younger brother suggests, and he can already see the irritation bubbling in Edward. “Don’t you dare tell me I missed a spot. I’ve been standing here for an hour meticulously shining your sorry ass.”

“I think it’s missing some flames.”


End file.
